


Dirty Talk Does It For Sherlock

by KeepCalmLoveSeverus



Series: Sherlock/Johnlock Drabbles [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, John is jealous, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepCalmLoveSeverus/pseuds/KeepCalmLoveSeverus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes John jealous.</p><p>John decides he's had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Talk Does It For Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by this on tumblr:
>
>> johnstached:
>> 
>> someone pls write me a very dirty piece of johnlock and comeplay

John had never figured out just what it was that made him so absurdly animalistic over the thought of Sherlock with someone else, but he was handling it. Sherlock didn’t do people. He didn’t do sex. And that made it easier to handle when Molly flirted with him or men on the subway tried to grope his bum.

The night he came home at half past three, smelling like another man’s cologne, carrying half of his clothes over his arm instead of on his back, and walking with the exaggerated care of someone who had obviously just been otherwise occupied, John snapped.

"Who was he?" he demanded to know, getting right in Sherlock’s face, backing him against the wall, pressing their bodies together as though he was trying to completely erase all scent of anyone but him on his Sherlock.

"An old friend," replied Sherlock stiffly, looking down into John’s face with that mask, that mask that John hated, because it meant Sherlock still didn’t trust him with everything. He didn’t seem to be fazed at all about being caught walking shirtless into their flat. “Why do you care?”

For fuck’s sake, he had saved the man’s life on the same day of meeting him! What more could Sherlock want?

"I care," seethed John, "because he’s not me. What’s he got that I don’t?" John was an excellent lover, and not to brag, but he wasn’t exactly average, either.

"Why, John," drawled Sherlock. "Are you saying you’d like to fuck me?"

Shoving his body even further into Sherlock’s personal space, he growled up at the taller man, “I want to wreck you. I want to stretch you out and fill you up until his cum is no longer inside you, until you can’t feel his cock, only mine.” Realizing what he was saying, John flushed a little; he’d gotten carried away, let himself get immersed in old mentalities, military mentalities, and he was almost positive Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate being bossed about like a common pedestrian at a crime scene.

To his surprise, Sherlock dropped to his knees, running those long, violin-playing fingers over the rapidly rising bulge in Jon’s pants; there was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looked up at John and asked, quite seriously, “Would you like to come on my face first? We can work up to the other bits, I’m certain your stamina is absolutely abysmal after the dry spell you’ve had. Not even a stress relieving wank, because I’d have heard you.”

That damn deduction trick. It’d always gotten his blood pulsing, and now it was roaring in his ears, and before he could second guess himself, he reached forward and knotted a rough hand in Sherlock’s silken hair. “I’m going to fuck your mouth like a two-pence whore; I’m going to choke you on my dick, and then when you think you’re going to asphyxiate I’m going to pull out and spray all over your skin and hair and you’ll be finding it for days and thinking of me.” Using the hold he had on Sherlock’s hair, John tilted the other man’s head back, meeting his gaze square on.

He wanted Sherlock to see that he was perfectly serious, and to back out if he wasn’t okay with that. The slowly drawled, “I’m certain I can take you without choking, John, I’m not an amateur," was Sherlock’s subtle (or not-so) way of telling him to proceed.

"Open my trousers," he gritted out, really slipping into the role, "And we’ll see just what that pretty little mouth of yours can do."

As it turned out, Sherlock’s mouth could not only navigate zippers around pulsing erections, it also made the dirtiest, most disgustingly arousing slurping noises as it worked around the head and shaft of his cock, taking it in deep, swirling around it, and every time Sherlock pulled back, he had great shining dribbles of saliva along his jaw and chin. “Look at you,” crooned John while he forced his cockhead past the back of Sherlock’s throat, “Such a greedy slut for it. Gagging for it, one might say,” he punctuated each word by a thrust of his hips that sent his erection further and further into Sherlock’s throat, until his balls were actually rubbing Sherlock’s chin. Sherlock made some sort of growling noise that officially pushed John over the edge, and he began fucking the man’s throat hard and fast, not caring about the tears in Sherlock’s eyes. Those deserved to be there, for him daring to presume to allow someone else to touch him. He ought to feel remorse — after all, that was the entire point of the lesson in the first place.

"Beautiful," he groaned as he felt the rush start in his toes, pulling out with a slick pop and finishing the last few strokes himself, his cock aimed directly between Sherlock’s steadily-gazing-at-him eyes; with his peripherals, John realized that Sherlock had pulled his own dick out at some point and was jerking it to the same fast, harsh rhythm as John.

"Come on your chest," he ordered hoarsely, right before shooting strands of milky-white come all over Sherlock’s face, hair, shoulders, oh god he seemed to come forever, as if his testes were being completely milked for every last drop, just to be used as paint on the canvas that was Sherlock.

Feeling a bit weak-kneed once it was over, John slumped forward, sliding down the wall to sit next to where Sherlock knelt. Allowing his gaze to roam over the debauched man, John licked his lips, then leaned forward and kissed his own come off of Sherlock’s lips, plundering that sharp mouth with his tongue, pulling back only to push them both into a lying position.

Several minutes later, when they’d both caught their breath and John was drawing lazy circles in the come on Sherlock’s chest, the detective rumbled, “If I had known this was what it would take, I would have pretended to go on a date a very long time ago.”

"Oh, fuck off," retorted John, frankly too sated to muster any anger that Sherlock had manipulated him. "Next time I’m going to take it out on your arse."

"Later this morning?" He almost sounded hopeful.

"Perhaps," replied John smugly, confident he had the upperhand now — because Sherlock did trust him. He trusted John to boss him about and not take anything too far, and honestly that was the best gift out of all.

Although the head had been bloody fantastic too.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always open for prompts/requests at johnlockscocks.tumblr.com !!


End file.
